


The Dangers of Faulty Handwriting

by ashindk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 07:26:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashindk/pseuds/ashindk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The difference between mind-blowing sex with Harry Potter and all-eclipsing disaster is just one gentle stroke of a quill. Pansy Parkinson’s quill, to be exact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dangers of Faulty Handwriting

**Author's Note:**

> Author/Artist LJ Name: ashindk  
> Prompter: nursedarry  
> Prompt Number: 3  
> Title: The Dangers of Faulty Handwriting  
> Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Pansy/Blaise  
> Summary: The difference between mind-blowing sex with Harry Potter and all-eclipsing disaster is just one gentle stroke of a quill. Pansy Parkinson’s quill, to be exact.  
> Rating: NC17  
> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
> Warning(s): none  
> Epilogue compliant? No. Not at all.  
> Word Count: 6,000  
> Author's Notes: Dear prompter, you asked for funny, smutty and awkward. I think that I managed at least two of them. I hope you enjoy! I had so much fun writing for your lovely prompt. Thank you to B and G for beta/britpicking. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Binns was droning on and on about Burdock Muldoon and his failed attempt at diplomacy with magical beings. The monotonous, ghostly voice was grating on Draco's nerves. Thank Merlin there was only a month left before NEWTs, and then he could get on with his life.  
  
Beside him, Pansy was pretending to take notes while actually writing in her diary. She was using a peacock quill that tickled his ear every time she reached the end of a line. The pages were charmed to conceal the text, but he could read the notes in the margin. The scrawled Mr and Mrs Parkinson-Zabini surrounded by little hearts had him smirking. It was a significant improvement from fifth year, when all her notes had been covered in sparkly pink Mr and Mrs Parkinson-Malfoys. He shuddered. Thank Merlin she was over that phase. A framed note caught his eyes; 'slicking charm to use on Blaise in bed', it said, and proceeded to describe the necessary swish and swirl wand motion. Hmm! Now there was something useful. Maybe he could surprise Harry later! He memorised the words and wand movements, and spent the rest of the lesson coming up with a plan to seduce his boyfriend.  
  
\- - -  
  
The Gryffindor 8th year boys’ dormitory smelled like dirty socks and Quidditch leathers. Draco didn't really mind. His own dorm smelled just as bad, but with a hint of Blaise's forgotten midnight snacks adding to the mix. Draco stopped just inside the door for a moment to get his bearings. He'd nodded at Weasley, when they had crossed each other at the portrait hole, and Thomas and Finnigan had been playing chess in the common room. That left Longbottom. He glanced at the bed next to Harry's. Empty. Good! He was probably off somewhere with Lovegood or Girl-Weasley or both, then.  
  
Finally Draco turned his attention to Harry, who was sprawled upside down on his bed, his bare feet up on the headboard and his head resting on a wrinkled lump of sheets and blankets. He was studying, or at least looking up at a battered book hovering in front of his face. From time to time he raised his hand and gave a small wave, and Draco could hear the rustling sound of a turning page. The sight made a small shiver run down his spine at Harry's casual displays of wandless magic; all that raw power, just waiting quietly under the innocent looking surface. Not that the surface was bad looking! Now that Harry wasn't wearing his cousin's cast offs anymore, he looked... extremely fit. It was just that the eternal bedhead and relaxed smile didn't advertise what lay beneath it.  
Draco crossed the room and plucked the book out of the air. Harry's scowl quickly turned into a smile, when he saw who had stolen his homework.  
  
“Draco! Hi! What are you doing here?” Harry's voice was warm and he sounded happily surprised to see him. Something soft fluttered in Draco's chest.  
  
“I have an hour or so before I need to go home for Friday tea with Mother. I thought I'd spend it with you. Unless you're busy, of course...”  
  
“Hrmm! I don't know. This text on illegal Quidditch manoeuvres is rather fascinating...” Harry cocked his head and looked at him in mock seriousness. “On the other hand... so are you. Please, come here,” he said, smiling and patting the mattress next to him.  
  
Draco sat down on the edge of the bed and toed off his shoes. Harry turned onto his side and propped his head up on his hand, looking at him. Draco stretched out beside him, mirroring his position. He reached over and plucked the glasses from Harry's face, carefully folding them and setting them on the bedside table, before placing a quick kiss on his lips.  
  
“Illegal Quidditch manoeuvres, Harry? You do know you're not actually on the team, this year, right?”  
  
“Stop being a prat! The War Orphans Foundation wants me to comment on the charity match next month. I need to know when to pull Oliver up on his manoeuvres.”  
  
“Oliver?!? Since when are you and Wood on a first name basis?”  
  
“Since years ago, when he first started coaching me to take over as captain. You're not jealous?! You know that yours are the only illicit manoeuvres I'm interested in!”  
  
Draco smiled. Harry was a true master of horrible innuendos. He decided to play along and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.  
  
“Oh, is that right? And would you like me to coach you in some of those manoeuvres?” He slid a hand onto Harry's hip and let his fingers ghost over the jut of his hipbone, tickling lightly at the sensitive skin where his hip met his thigh. Harry hummed and nodded. Draco rolled over, repositioning himself on his back and tugging gently at Harry's arm, until he gave in and crawled on top of him, settling himself in the vee of his legs. He leaned up to nuzzle at Harry's jaw. The stubble there tickled his nose and lips, and he darted his tongue out for a quick taste of Harry's skin. He could feel his own cock filling, as it brushed against Harry's.  
  
“You're wearing too many clothes,” Harry accused him.  
  
“Then you'd better get rid of them.”  
  
Harry smirked down at him. His messy mop of hair was falling into his eyes, and he looked extremely pleased with himself.  
  
“I'd accuse you of being too lazy to do it yourself, but you really just want me to use my wandless magic, don't you?”  
  
There was no use denying that, so Draco decided to aim for coy, and bit his lip, nodding. Harry laughed.  
  
“Okay then.  _Evanesco_!”  
  
Draco felt a cold gush of wind, and then Harry's warm body, covering him. His skin was tingling a little from the spell and Harry's touch. He reached up and trailed his hands over Harry's back and hips, tugging him closer to feel more of that delicious muscle and velvety soft skin. He flipped them over and fumbled in the rumpled sheets until he managed to close his hand around his wand.  
  
“I promised to coach you, remember?” he whispered and twisted his hand on Harry's cock. Harry gasped and nodded.  
  
“Give me your hand.”  
  
Harry thrust his hand out impatiently, and Draco grabbed him by the wrist, turned his hand palm up, and muttered the slicking charm.  
  
“That's one of the secret Slytherin manoeuvres,” he said. It came out a little breathy, maybe. Attempting to divert attention from his breathy –but very manly- voice, he reached behind himself, still holding Harry's hand, and guided him towards his arse. He felt Harry's hot palm brushing against one cheek. And stopping. And staying absolutely still, even as Harry's arm tugged in the opposite direction.,  
  
“I'm stuck! Draco! What did you do to my hand?” Harry's voice was annoyed, and maybe a little panicked.  
  
“Erm...” Draco said. Draco had a sudden recollection of how atrocious Pansy's handwriting was.  
  
“Draco! What was that spell?”  
  
“Erm...” Draco said again. “Never mind that.  _Finite incantatem!”_  
  
He felt a tug on his arse, when Harry tried to remove his hand. It didn't budge. Harry tugged again, harder this time, managing to dislodge Draco from his perch between his thighs, and send him tumbling onto the mattress. But he could still feel Harry's hand on his skin.  
  
“Draco! What spell did you use? Was it supposed to do that?”  
  
“Not exactly... It was supposed to be a slicking charm. I read it in Pansy's journal.”  
  
Harry grew completely still.  
  
“A slicking charm? That you read in Pansy's journal?”  
  
“Erm... yes?”  
  
“The same Pansy Parkinson, whom Snape was always griping at for not crossing her T's?” Harry lowered his voice, imitating Snape. “Brewing is an exact science, Miss Parkinson. Even the smallest error can be fatal.”  
  
Draco could hear a loud buzzing sound in his ears. It was possible that this was what pure terror sounded like. Apparently Pansy and Blaise had a bondage kink, and he was doomed. The buzzing grew louder and louder and the sheet next to him started vibrating. Or rather, his wand started vibrating, indicating that he should get ready for tea with his mother. The tea that he had to attend every Friday, so that she could see that he was not being persecuted at school. The tea that he absolutely couldn't miss.  
  
“We need to get dressed,” he said.  
  
“Yes. Let's go and find Pansy. Hopefully, she'll know how to release the spell. It'll be totally embarrassing, but it's better than going to dinner looking like I'm a pervert, groping your arse.”  
  
“There's no time for that. I'm late for tea. You'll have to come with me,” Draco said, with a sinking feeling. He braced himself for the outrageous onslaught that was bound to follow, but he couldn't help a slight flinch from the shrill panic in Harry's voice.  
  
“ _WHAT?_  You want me to go to tea with your mother, looking like I'm constantly groping you in a very inappropriate place? Your mother, who saved my life. I owe her a life debt, you know. I don't like the odds of her cashing that in. Probably in a very, very painful way, if I turn up at her home with my palm glued to the arse of her only son and heir!”  
  
“Use your cloak, then.” He looked into Harry's eyes, seeing the panic there, but determined to make him understand. He reached over and placed a hand on Harry's arm, trying to calm him down. “Please, Harry. This is important. She only let me go back to school on the condition that I check in with her once a week. She's afraid people will treat me badly because of my name and my past. She'll worry, if I don't turn up.”  
  
Harry's face softened, and his shoulders slumped.  
  
“Okay. But we'll only stay long enough to prove that you're well. And then we'll find Pansy and get this mess cleaned up.”  
  
“Thank you. Thank you so much, Harry. I love you.”  
  
Despite everything, Harry smiled. It was a small one, but it looked genuine enough. He tugged at Draco's arse and bent down to pick his trousers off the floor.  
  
“I know. I love you too. I wouldn't be doing this otherwise.”  
  
Draco picked up his shirt and started buttoning it, while Harry attempted to put his trousers on, one-handed. He flailed, overbalanced and tumbled back onto the bed, taking Draco with him.  
  
  
\- - -  
  
Draco stepped out of the Floo in the hall, and brushed the ash from his cashmere jumper. He'd have to find some excuse to give his mother, for why he wasn't wearing his school robes. He'd tried to put them on, but they hitched up in the back, where they were draped over Harry's arm, and made it immediately obvious that something was very, very wrong. He tucked the jumper down in the front, where his trousers were gaping unbuttoned. He had spent a full minute trying to button them, but when he finally succeeded, Harry had complained about circulation in his hand being cut off.  
He could hear a faint rustling behind him, as Harry checked that the cloak was covering him. The sound of heels on the marble floor alerted him, that his mother was coming down to greet him. He could feel the nervous twitch in Harry's fingers on his arse. He reached behind himself blindly and patted him awkwardly on a random invisible body part. He hoped that the gesture was reassuring. It was hard to know. He could be patting Harry's nose, his elbow, or his cock, for all he knew. It was hard to tell.  
  
“Draco, darling!”  
  
There was another twitch of Harry's fingers, and a feeble little tug, like Harry was instinctively trying to pull back.  
  
“Hello, Mother.”  
  
She leaned forward and kissed him, before pulling back and looking him up and down, like she always had, when he came home from school.  
  
“You look well! Just look at those rosy cheeks.”  
  
Draco could feel his face doing something horribly odd, at the mention of cheeks. He quickly covered it up with a smile.  
  
“Went flying. Must be sunburn,” he mumbled.  
  
“Nonsense! You just look healthy. I've asked Bitsy to serve the tea in the east wing drawing room. The garden is looking lovely, and we'll be able to see the new roses I've had planted from there.”  
  
He moved forward carefully and held out his arm for his mother to take.  
  
“That sounds lovely, Mother.”  
  
\- - -  
  
The walk to the east wing had never felt so long. He kept up a constant chatter, to mask the shuffling sounds of Harry's feet and the rustling of the cloak. His mother didn't seem to mind, though. She smiled and nodded, and asked questions, as if his dull school life was the most interesting thing she'd discussed in a while. It probably was, he realised with a small pang of guilt. She was all alone, apart from his father, who didn't really count for company these days.  
  
“Will father be joining us for tea?”  
  
He felt a violent lurch that almost made him tumble backwards. Harry must have stopped moving. Draco gave an odd little forward twist of his hip, trying to tug him along. Fortunately they were moving into the drawing room now. Just a few more steps, and he'd be able to sit down on the sofa, and Harry could sit beside him.  
  
“I don't think so. He's not feeling well, lately.”  
  
Draco sank down into the soft sofa, slowly, giving Harry time to sit down as well.  
  
“I'm sorry to hear that. Is he feeling, erm... nostalgic?”  
  
“Not exactly. It's the loss of reputation that gets to him.”  
  
“I suppose that was to be expected.”  
  
“Indeed. Now, tell me all about the school gossip. Mrs Greengrass came over for tea on Sunday. Tell me, is Daphne really planning on joining the Auror corps?”  
  
Draco laughed. Daphne's insane plan actually seemed to be working.  
  
“No, I don't think so. But she'll do anything to avoid her parents' attempt to find her a rich husband. The threat of joining the Auror corps is supposed to make them relieved when she decides to pursue a career in healing.“  
  
“Cunning  _and_  ambitious,” His mother chuckled. “That girl was born a Slytherin. Speaking of which, tell me about Pansy. I must admit I was worried, when she decided to return to school. Have there been any... unpleasant encounters?”  
  
“No, Mother. She's doing well. She's going out with Blaise. They're rather serious, I think,” he said.  
  
“Ah! So she's over her infatuation with you. I must admit, I'm relieved. The poor girl was setting herself up for a broken heart.”  
  
Draco's carefully constructed mask must have slipped for a moment, because his mother was laughing now.  
  
“Please, Draco! Don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at boys.” Draco felt Harry's hand shake gently, as if he was suppressing a laugh. But apparently his mother wasn't finished humiliating him yet. “One boy in particular,” she said. Her gaze turned slightly to the right and bored holes into the apparently empty seat next to him. Draco could practically feel all colour leave his face.  
  
“Hello, Mr Potter. How nice of you to join us,” his mother said.  
  
There was a violent lurch and Draco was twisted to the side, his arse coming up off the seat, as Harry jumped to his feet. He heard a dull thump, as Harry knocked into the Ming vase behind the sofa. It wobbled on its pedestal, gaining momentum, until it finally tumbled over.  
  
Draco tensed, half standing with his arse thrust out slightly, and watched in frozen horror, as it fell. In less than a second, it would crash to the ground in a million pieces, and he would have to spend the rest of his afternoon trying to explain to his mother why Harry Potter's hand was stuck to his arse, and how it was all Pansy's fault, anyway. Except the crash never came. The vase was floating in mid-air, suspended by his mother’s wand, and she slowly levitated it back to its place.  
  
The vase settled back on the pedestal with a faint click, and his mother lowered her wand.  
  
“As I was saying, it's nice of you to bring Mr Potter with you, Draco. But I don't see why you felt the need to keep him hidden.” She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Why are you standing like you're about to kick off on a broom? Please sit down. And close your mouth, dear.”  
  
Draco hadn't realised he was gaping, and quickly snapped his mouth shut. Instead of sitting down, he straightened up. He couldn't look his mother in the eyes, though, so instead he looked at his feet and willed the marble floor to swallow him up. He could hear the rustling of fabric, when Harry took off the cloak.  
  
“Ah, Mr Potter, how lovely to see you.”  
  
“You too, Mrs Malfoy,” Harry said.  
  
“And, would you mind telling me why you're fondling my son’s backside?”  
  
“Erm...,” Harry said. Draco could feel him squirming in his seat. Time to come to the rescue.  
  
“Harry had nothing to do with it. It's Pansy's fault, really,” he muttered darkly. His mother raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
The sound of footsteps in the corridor had all three of them turning their heads. With a sinking feeling, Draco recognised the sounds of his father's dragon hide boots.  
  
“Cissa, darling, did you tell the elves to put my - “His father stopped just inside the door, and took in the scene in front of him. He nodded at Harry and sneered with only a small amount of venom. “Mr Potter.”  
  
Harry's hand twitched weakly on Draco's arse. “Hello, Mr Malfoy,” he said. Draco couldn't help but admire the way his voice stayed perfectly pleasant and calm.  
  
His mother was tapping her manicured nails against the armrest. “I would still like to know exactly how Pansy is responsible for your boyfriend's hand being down your trousers, Draco.”  
  
“Sticking charm,” Draco muttered.  
  
His father’s sneer turned into a smirk. “When I taught you to always stick with the winning side, I didn't mean literally!”  
  
“Erm,” Draco said, trying - and probably failing - to look innocent. “You know me. I always follow instructions to the letter.”  
  
Harry and his father both shot him disbelieving looks, and snorted in unison. Which was possibly the creepiest thing Draco had ever witnessed. And he had witnessed a lot of creepy things. At least Harry looked as if he found it just as disturbing. And his father looked mildly disgusted. He turned around to look at his mother, and found her watching the scene with her head tilted to one side. He knew that look. It didn't bode well.  
  
There was a loud pop and a house-elf appeared with a tea tray. Its huge eyes were narrowed and it glanced at Harry warily.  
  
“Tea is being served, Mistress.”  
  
“Thank you, Plinky. Please pass the plates, before you Disapparate.”  
  
Plinky sighed deeply and her ears drooped. She put the tray down and carried a plate to his mother first, and then his father. Then she shot Harry another suspicious look, and carefully levitated two plates across the table, before disappearing with another pop. Draco looked at Harry and saw that he was wearing a confused and slightly wounded expression. His father was smirking viciously and his mother hid a smile behind her tea cup. Draco couldn't help it. He laughed. Harry's eyebrows drew together in a deep frown.  
  
“What's so funny?”  
  
“The elves really hate you,” he snickered. “You'd almost think they'd been warned to be on the lookout for stray socks around you.”  
  
Harry blushed, but then he glared at Draco's father and clenched his jaw. Draco could feel Harry's nails digging into the soft skin where his thigh met his arse, and couldn't help squirming a little. Damn it! Dobby had been a friend of Harry's, and he'd been treated badly by his father, and then killed by his aunt. He should have known better than to bring that subject up. He shot his mother a pleading look.  
  
“Please excuse our elves, Mr Potter. Most of them are very conservative. They simply haven't adjusted to the new circumstances yet,” his mother said.  
  
Harry gave a stiff nod. But the way he squared his shoulders looked marginally less tense, and Draco felt the fingers on his arse loosen their death grip a fraction.  
  
His father cleared his throat, to get their attention. “Tell me, Mr Potter, what are your plans for next year? Will you be joining Minister Shacklebolt's staff? You've worked together before, after all.”  
  
“I'm not really sure. Hermione thinks it's important that I make some public appearances, and support Kingsley as Minister.”  
  
“One must never underestimate the value of good public relations.” His father nodded sagely.  
  
Draco was astonished to see his father agreeing with something Granger said - even if it was only third hand. Harry wasn't finished, though.  
  
“But my godfather left me a house, and it was in a bit of a state, even before the war. I was thinking about taking some time off to redecorate it.”  
  
“Ah, yes! Grimmauld Place. I must admit it looked a bit worse for wear, the last time I saw it.”  
  
Draco wondered when that might have been. Harry had told him that the house had been ransacked by Death Eaters after the wards were breached. Apparently Harry was thinking along the same lines. Draco suppressed a wince as he felt ragged nails digging into his skin again. He would have to talk to Harry about biting his nails again. And then Harry would have to spend a long time kissing it better, when all this was over. He banished that thought for now. It wasn't very wise to think about Harry kissing his arse, with a skilled Legilimens in the room. Especially when said Legilimens was as terrifying as his mother.  
  
“Tell me, Mr Potter, is that portrait of my dear aunt Walburga still stuck to the wall in the hall?”  
  
“Yes, Mrs Malfoy, it is. Hermione managed to cast a strong Silencing Charm on it, though. She was experimenting with some new varieties for her NEWT class.”  
  
“A Silencing Charm?” his father cut in. “Your friends are using a valuable Black Family heirloom for practicing their Charms homework?”  
  
“I'm so sorry, Mr Malfoy.” Harry said, pasting on a smile. “I had no idea the portrait was of value to you. I'll be sure to send her along to Malfoy Manor, as soon as I find a way to get her off the wall. I would never deprive your family of a treasured heirloom.”  
  
His father visibly blanched and Draco couldn't help snickering. He reached out and managed to give Harry's knee a reassuring squeeze without his parents noticing.  
  
“By no means, Mr Potter. The portrait clearly belongs at Grimmauld Place.” Draco could hear the edge of panic in his father's voice.  
  
“Please feel free to send her along, Mr Potter,” his mother said. “She used to pinch my cheeks quite hard, when I was a girl. I'd be happy to use her for target practice myself. My Blasting Hexes needs some brushing up, I think. Your friend Miss Granger has some delightfully wicked ideas. She really is a very bright young witch.”  
  
“I'd be happy to, Mrs Malfoy,” Harry said and grinned into his tea cup.  
  
\- - -  
  
“It was lovely to see you, Draco. And you, Mr Potter. I hope Draco will bring you along again sometime. Preferably when you're able to use both hands.”  
  
Draco could see the blush spreading on Harry's cheeks. “Thank you, Mrs Malfoy,” he said.  
  
“Goodbye, Mother!”  
  
They stepped into the Floo and soon swirled onto the dusty floor in front of the chimney in the Room of Requirement.  
  
“That was the most embarrassing two hours of my life,” Harry groaned and leaned his head against Draco's shoulder.  
  
“I know! But it could have been so much worse! I had anticipated some hexes at the very least, but my mother seems to like you. And Father is already plotting how best to use our relationship to his advantage.”  
  
“When you put it that way, I suppose it wasn't so bad.”  
  
“Now, put your cloak back on. We have to find Pansy.”  
  
Harry draped the cloak over both of them. Wearing it was a strange feeling, and it couldn't really compare to anything Draco had tried before. It was a little bit like being covered in a thin sheen of water, but without being wet.  
  
They avoided the more trafficked halls and corridors, meandering through deserted class rooms and ill-lit passages, and finally made it to the Slytherin dorms. The common room was empty, apart from a few first years, who were engrossed in a game of gobstones in the corner. Sneaking by unnoticed wouldn't have been a problem, even without the cloak, Draco thought.  
  
Getting into the girls dorm proved to be much more of a challenge. Draco had been inside plenty of times, but he had always entered in the company of one of the girls. He wasn't so lucky this time. The door didn't respond to Harry's whispered  _“Alohamora”_ , and the snake doorknob hissed and bared its fangs at them every time one of them reached out to touch it. They were still standing in the corridor having a whispered argument about what to do next, when the door swung open. Millicent stepped out, but paused with her hand on the knob, and turned back to say something to Daphne. Draco tugged at Harry's arm and they slinked past her into the room. They almost ran into Daphne, who was leaving with Millicent. Draco glanced at Pansy's bed. The curtains were open and Pansy was sprawling on top of the covers, reading the newest issue of Witch Weekly, while Blaise gave her a foot rub. Thankfully, they were both dressed, even if they did appear a bit rumpled.  
  
They ducked behind Daphne's bed and Harry carefully rearranged the cloak. Draco relaxed a little when the not-wet sheen of water disappeared from his field of vision. Harry had kept the cloak draped over himself, so Draco appeared to be alone. If he'd thought his parents were bad, this was going to be ten times worse! Pansy practically lived for the moments when she was able to embarrass someone. He felt a pointed push on his arse. Harry must be getting impatient. He squared his shoulders, pasted on his most winning smile, and stepped out from behind the bedpost.  
  
“Pansy! I was wondering if you might help me with a small Charms-related problem?”  
  
Pansy shrieked, flailed and kicked Blaise in the face, before falling off the bed. This was bad. This was very, very bad.  
  
“I'm so sorry, Pansy. Let me help you up.” He extended a hand, which Pansy ignored. She glowered at him and climbed back onto the bed, sat down and carefully draped her skirt over her thighs. He turned to Blaise instead.  
  
“Blaise, mate, are you all right? Your nose seems a little... broken.”  
  
“I thing ib migbt be,” Blaise said.  
  
Draco didn't really know what to do at this point. He'd caused Pansy to fall flat on her arse and been responsible for Blaise's broken nose. Any hope he'd had of getting away from this with a tiny scrap of dignity left, had vanished. He heard a rustling sound behind him, as Harry took off the cloak.  
  
“Hello Parkinson. I'm sorry if we frightened you,” Harry said. He turned to Blaise. “I can fix that nose for you, if you want. I made a point of learning how, after Draco broke mine.”  
  
Draco sighed. Of course! Granger was right. When it came to saving people, Harry simply couldn't help himself. Even if it was just saving Blaise from a broken nose.  
  
Blaise eyed Harry dubiously. After a few seconds he shrugged and nodded. He removed his hand from where it had been covering his nose, and Harry raised his wand.  
  
 _“Episkey!”_  
  
There was a sick, crunching sound and then Blaise's nose realigned. He reached up and touched it gingerly.  
  
“Thanks, Potter. That's so much better.”  
  
“You're welcome,” Harry said.  
  
Pansy cleared her throat.  
  
“What was it you needed help with, Draco? Does it have anything to do with having Harry Potter stuck to your arse, by any chance?”  
  
“Well.... yes, it does. Sort of. I read the directions for a sticking charm in your diary, and I was just wondering if you would be so kind as to tell me how to end it.”  
  
“A sticking charm? Oh!  _That_  sticking charm. Hmm... and why would you need to know how to end that?”  
  
“Erm... because... err...” He stalled, trying to find the least mortifying way to tell her.  
  
“Because Draco was an idiot and accidentally used it to glue my hand to his arse,” Harry said. Which was actually... less embarrassing than some of the things he had been about to say.  
  
“Thank you, Potter,” Pansy said in her sweetest voice. “And thank you for fixing Blaise's nose, too. I'd hate to have a boyfriend with a crooked nose.”  
  
“You're welcome,” Harry said.  
  
“Now, Draco,” Pansy said. Her voice turned glacial and she leveled a glare at him. “What has this experience taught you about looking in other people’s diaries?”  
  
“That your handwriting is bloody awful. And that I should always read the entire text before trying a spell. Also, I should avoid getting into situations where I'll have to admit to people that I've read their diaries.”  
  
“Good boy! I think I've humiliated you enough for now. Or maybe not. You see, the charm is released by orgasm.” She snickered and waved them away. “Run along, boys. Blaise has to massage my poor bruised bottom.”  
  
Harry didn't answer her. He didn't even bother with the cloak. He just ran out of the door, dragging Draco along behind him by the arse.  
  
Luckily, the boys' dorm was empty, when they tumbled inside. They barely made it to Draco's bed, before tumbling over in a mess of flailing limbs and half discarded clothes. Harry was pushing him down, into the mattress, and he felt himself growing harder. But this wasn't about him. At least not at first. He needed to make Harry come so the spell would release him. Draco rolled them over, grabbing hold of Harry's free hand and pinning it down.  
  
“No,” Draco whispered. “I want you to be able to use both hands, when you work me open and fuck me.”  
  
Harry was moaning and squirming on the bed. His hips were thrusting slightly up and his hand on Draco's arse clenched. Draco pinned him down by straddling his thighs. Harry made a small sound, that could have been a protest, but it turned into a moan as Draco bent down and licked a broad, wet stripe along his cock from the base to the head before swallowing him down. He used Harry's hand on his arse for support, leaning back and rocking forward, working his mouth over Harry's cock. Harry's free hand was roaming over his back, before it came up and rested in his hair, tugging gently at first, and then not so gently when Draco hummed and bobbed his head.  
  
“Close. Draco, fuck!” Harry panted. He might have meant it as a warning, Draco thought. But the hand on his arse was pushing him in closer while the one on the back of his head wasn't pulling him away, so he just leant in a bit more, sucking and swallowing. He could feel Harry's cock twitch and grow impossibly harder, and then he was coming. Draco licked at his softening cock until Harry made a small unhappy noise and tried to squirm away. Draco pulled off and collapsed on top of Harry. He was still hard and panting a little, but the feeling of both of Harry's hands caressing his sides and back made him bury his face in Harry's sweaty skin to hide a smile.  
  
After a few minutes, Harry's roaming hands became more focused, stroking and teasing closer and closer to Draco's arse, until he felt a finger ghosting over his hole. He thrust his arse back against it, not caring that it might make him seem over-eager.  
  
“No spells this time,” Harry whispered in his ear, and leaned over to grab a small bottle of lube from the drawer in Draco's bedside table. He could hear the wet sound of the lube and then Harry's hands were back on him, teasing him for what felt like forever, before finally thrusting inside. He rocked back against Harry's fingers, enjoying the pleasure-pain of being stretched and vulnerable. Harry was getting hard again and Draco didn't think he could hold it much longer before shaking apart. He leaned down and nipped at Harry's earlobe with his teeth.  
  
“Please, Harry. I need you in me.”  
  
Harry answered by removing his fingers and flipping him over. The strange, empty feeling when Harry's fingers were taken away only lasted a few seconds, though. Then there was blunt pressure against his hole and Harry was pressing inside.  
  
Soon Harry was all the way inside, his cock filling him and his body pressing hot and heavy all along his back. Draco felt every delicious thrust bringing him closer to the edge. His whole body was rocking and his cock was rubbing against the sheets. Then suddenly Harry's arm was around his waist, drawing him up on all fours, making him feel each thrust of Harry's cock even deeper. And then there was a rough, calloused hand on his over-sensitised cock and they were both coming.  
  
Draco collapsed back onto the bed in a boneless heap. His entire body felt so spent and worn out he couldn't really move his limbs. So he just lay there pliantly and let his thoughts drift, while Harry arranged them into a spooning position and nuzzled into his neck.  
  
The day might have been a disaster, but on the other hand...  
  
“My parents took things rather well, I think.”  
  
“Mmh. If you say so,” Harry mumbled. He sounded like he was drifting off to sleep.  
  
“My mother didn't try to kill you, and my father didn't disown me.”  
  
“And those were your criteria for success?” Harry sounded more awake now. And slightly amused.  
  
“Well, yes. I mean, you were practically the mortal enemy of my family for a while. I didn't count on us being able to sit down for tea with them quite yet.”  
  
“Ah! So you did plan on me having civilised conversations with them at some point?”  
  
“Of course I did! I do plan on going through with our plan to move in together after NEWTs.”  
  
Harry’s arms tightened around him, and he could feel Harry's lips at the nape of his neck stretching into a smile.  
  
“Are you trying to tell me that I'm stuck with you after all?”  
  
He considered Harry's words for a moment, but in the end, there was only one answer to give. “Yes, Harry. I suppose you are.”

 

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